One-Shotalia!
by SuperSailorCharon
Summary: A funny collection of one-shots featuring your favorite Hetalia characters! Rated T for language/dirty jokes/etc.
1. Episode 1: Tipping in other Countries

**SuperSailorCharon: So I've decided to start a series of silly little one-shots featuring the Hetalia characters featuring funny situations I could see the countries in. My OCs from American Dreamgirl will not be making an appearance, but I might feature some of my favorite pairings. I might not add the 2Ps or Nyotalias since I don't know much about their personalities. So here we go! **

Germany, Japan, Italy, France, Russia, China, America, and England all decided to go out to eat one night at a very fancy five-star restaurant in New York City. America loved it when the other countries visited him at his house and he usually spared no expense in making sure the others had a great time. So on this particular night, the eight countries had all enjoyed a luxurious meal and now the bill had arrived.

"Nein! Ve are splitting the bill equally!" Germany decided.

"Prease, Germany-san," Japan insisted. "I do not mind paying for everyone's mear tonight."

"You guys worry about the bill," America said. "I'll get the tip."

"I didn't know that people tipped in America all of the time," Italy pointed out.

"Yeah, aru," China pointed out. "We don't tip at my house because everything is so expensive already!"

"Dude, it's just the right thing to do!" America pointed out. "Some waiters here in America don't make any money at all except for tips!"

"Why should we tip ze waiter?" France asked with his nose up in the air. "He forgot to refill my wine twice!"

"That's probably because you're acting like a belligerent drunk, you bloody frog!" England retorted.

"Well, at least I can hold my liquor better zhan you can, Black Sheep of Europe!" France said pretentiously.

England and France began to bicker about who-knows-what while Japan paid the bill. Italy was ecstatic that he didn't have to pay his share. America scribbled down something on a blank check.

"Hold on America, how much do you plan on leaving, da?" Russia asked. But America didn't answer him. America signed his name "Alfred F. Jones" at the bottom.

"You guys have a wonderful night," the young waiter said as he came by to collect the bill.

"Wait, dude, I wanna give you your tip in person," America said, handing the waiter the check and patting him on the back. The waiter's eyes widened and he nearly collapsed upon seeing the number of zeros. He started to cry.

"Oh no! America-san! You insulted the waiter!" Japan gasped in horror. At his house, tipping was considered a huge insult.

"No way, Japan, dude!" America said proudly. "I left him enough money so that he'll never have to wait tables again!"

"Wait, America! How much did you leave him?" Italy asked in shock, enough so that his normally-closed brown eyes were now wide-open in surprise.

"Just two and a half million dollars," America said casually as the waiter continued to shed tears of joy.

"Nein! You were not supposed to leave that much!" Germany bellowed. "Five percent should be enough!"

"Bloody idiot!" England snapped.

"What?" America asked. "It happens all the time at my place. Sometimes some really cool rich person will leave a waiter a humungous tip that changes their life! I thought it'd be totally awesome if I did that tonight while all my friends were visiting!"

"For such an ignorant country, you certainly have ze heart of a French noble, oui!" France complimented.

"Well," England sighed reluctantly, "I suppose once in a while you know when to do the right thing." He didn't want to agree with France out loud, but he could admit that for a country who didn't sense the mood, America could sometimes be the most generous country in the world.

Everyone in the restaurant stood up and applauded, and the waiter never forgot the kind personification that changed his life forever.


	2. Episode 2: Party with the Baltics

**SuperSailorCharon: Here's the second episode! I do not condone under-aged drinking, but enjoy this funny little tail of Latvia and Sealand unintentionally starting the wildest party in Eastern Europe! **

For someone whose human body was only fifteen years old, Latvia was quickly on his way to becoming an alcoholic. He drank often and alone, and always on days when he had faced some sort of harsh punishment from Russia. Why did he always have to say the wrong thing at the wrong time? At least this week, Russia was away at China's house and the Baltics had been trusted to housesit. Latvia could have some peace and quiet away from the large, scary country.

And tonight, he wanted peace and quiet in the form of vodka and lots of it. Often Latvia helped himself to Russia's vodka stash whenever the giant country was away. As long as Latvia replenished Russia's vodka cabinet before he came back, Russia never noticed that the small, terrified country was helping himself to his vodka stash.

Latvia sat in a big chair in front of a roaring fire with a bottle of vodka in his hand. He never wanted to move from this spot and he wanted to enjoy the stillness as long as he possibly could.

Until someone threw the front door open.

"Hello there, Latvia!" A tiny little micro-nation sang out. Little Sealand bounded into the parlor where Latvia sat. The Baltic country sprang up in surprise. Sealand was clad in his usual sailor suit and he had a backpack strapped on his back.

"What are you doing here?" Latvia demanded, nearly dropping his vodka.

"I told you, I was visiting this week, remember? You wanted someone to keep you company while Russia was away, and so I came right over!" Sealand sang.

Dammit. How could Latvia forget that he invited Sealand over? So much for getting drunk and having some peace and quiet.

"Is that vodka you're drinking?" Sealand asked. "Well, I was at England's house, and I raided his liquor cabinet!" Sealand sat the backpack down and pulled out a bottle of rum and a bottle of gin.

Latvia's eyes widened. It's a bad idea to mix your hard liquor, but right now Latvia was too drunk to care. He quickly stumbled to his feet.

"The two of us can have a smashing party with all this liquor! I have always wanted to have a party like in American television shows!" Sealand chirped. "I watch a lot of American TV on the internet you know!"

Latvia wasn't paying attention. A party was the last thing he wanted, but if he was just getting incredibly wasted with Sealand, then what was the worst that could happen?

Sealand screwed the top off the gin and took a swig before making a face.

"That's awful!" Sealand spat.

"You've never drank before, have you?" Latvia asked.

"Nope!" Sealand cried.

"Try the rum," Latvia suggested. "It's a little sweeter."

Sealand took a swig of the rum and immediately decided he liked it much better than the gin. He took a few more deep gulps.

Lithuania came into the parlor and gasped when he saw Sealand and Latvia getting drunk.

"Hello there, Lithuania!" Sealand cried. "Come join us! We're having a party!"

Lithuania was much too stunned for words. He had to call someone. He stepped into the hallway and called up Poland on the phone.

"Poland! What am I going to do?" Lithuania panicked. "Sealand and Latvia are getting very drunk in the parlor and Russia will be coming home from China's house soon! He trusted us to housesit for him!"

"Wait, did you, like, say they were getting drunk?" Poland asked. "Hold on, Liet! I'll, like, be there in a minute!"

Lithuania trembled nervously as he watched Latvia and Sealand polish off the liquor. Estonia had joined them. Lithuania wasn't close with Estonia or Latvia, but he cared enough to make sure that the other two Baltic countries didn't suffer Russia's cruelty.

"I'll go get some more vodka," Latvia volunteered, stumbling to his feet out of the chair. The door flew open and Poland swaggered in to see Estonia and Sealand on the parlor floor with various liquor bottles strewn around the place.

"You totally didn't, like, tell me it was a party!" Poland cried.

"No! Poland! It's not a party!" Lithuania corrected with a tremble. But Poland wasn't having any of it. Latvia returned with another bottle of vodka.

An eerie presence filled Russia's house. The door creaked open and Belarus entered into the parlor.

"Big Brother will kill you when he comes home," Belarus hissed.

Lithuania trembled and handed Belarus a shot glass of vodka. Maybe this would be his chance to impress her. Hopefully he could deal with this mess later before Russia got back.

"Would you like some vodka?" Lithuania offered nervously.

Belarus shot him a dirty look. She did like liquor, though, so she accepted.

A "boing-boing" sound could be heard outside. Ukraine, massive tracts of land and all, found her way into the parlor, too.

"I could hear you from my house. What's going on?" Ukraine asked.

"We're having a party!" Sealand cried. "Join us! There is plenty of liquor for everyone!"

"I love parties!" Ukraine chirped.

Eventually the party got wilder. What started out as Sealand, the Baltics, and Russia's sisters eventually turned into West Europe getting involved. Prussia couldn't resist a party and France just wanted an excuse to hit on Belarus and Ukraine. Germany had to make sure Prussia didn't make a drunken asshole out of himself and naturally Italy tagged along. Hungary heard about this party and dragged Austria to go with her despite his protests.

"Switzy, there's a party at Russia's house," Liechtenstein asked her big brother Switzerland. "Can I go?"

"You're not going." Switzerland said tersely. "There's alcohol at this party and you're too young to be drinking heavily. Parties like that get very rowdy. Besides, Austria will be there and I don't want you talking to him. Now go outside and finish bringing in the laundry.

Liechtenstein sighed. She loved her big brother and knew he meant well, but she wished he wasn't so strict with her sometimes.

Eventually, even America heard about the wild party at Russia's house. Of course, America had to come. He didn't like Russia and tried to avoid his house, but a party was a party.

As the night moved on, most of the countries were unbelievably drunk. Sealand had passed out and was sleeping in a broom closet, but not before he serenaded everyone with a drunken version of his "Marukaite Chikyuu". Ukraine was crying in a corner for no reason. Prussia was swinging from a chandelier. And weirdest of all…Belarus was actually smiling!

"Dude! I wonder where Britain is?" America asked. "Did he not get the invite that there was a wicked party at Russia's house?"

"He must not have shown up because he cannot handle his liquor!" France chuckled. He, Prussia, and Spain were so drunk that the three of them had stripped down to banana hammocks.

Suddenly, England burst through the door.

"Where the hell is Sealand?!" England demanded. "He stole my very best gin and rum!"

"Dude, the kiddo's okay. He's just taking a nap in the broom closet." America said.

"Don't you "dude" me!" England snapped. "I just wanted to turn up a pint tonight at home, and that little wanker stole from me!"

The entire party went dead-silent. Russia and China walked into the house. Everyone who hadn't passed out stared at Russia with widened eyes. The trembling Baltics were even more nervous than ever.

"Oh! You did not say you were throwing me surprise party to welcome me home from China's house!" Russia cried. "Who threw me surprise party?"

"Latvia did!" A tiny drunken voice cried out from the broom closet. Maybe Sealand wasn't passed out after all…

Latvia trembled and quaked as Russia approached the young Baltic and patted him on the head briskly.

"What a nice surprise!" Russia cried. "It is so nice to have everyone at my house, da? Why don't you get more vodka and we can celebrate?"

Latvia heaved a sigh of relief. He walked unsteadily back over to the liquor cabinet. Upon swinging open the cabinet doors his small body went rigid with fear.

"Uh…Russia," Latvia said nervously, "we have no more vodka."

"KOLKOLKOLKOLKOL!"


	3. Episode 3: Turkey's Little Secret

Turkey had a dirty little secret. Every afternoon his favorite thing to do was put on a belly-dancing costume. He closed the door to his bedroom where he would belly dance.

Greece stopped by Turkey's house on one such afternoon in one of his attempts to get along with Turkey. Hopefully this time Greece wouldn't suffer Turkey's Hellas punch. The front door was open and so Greece invited himself in, but Turkey was nowhere to be seen. Greece could hear exotic music coming from Turkey's room. Greece knocked on the door, but the music was too loud. The door creaked open and Greece's jaw hit the floor when he saw Turkey without his white face mask or his military clothes. Instead, the conquering Mediterranean nation was dressed in a flowing purple skirt with a matching top that had shiny gold discs hanging off the hem. Turkey didn't seem to notice that the door was open. He continued to sway and bounce with the beat of the exotic rhythm. Greece hurried out of Turkey's house as fast as he could and pretended he saw nothing.

A week later after a world meeting, Greece decided he couldn't hold in what he saw at Turkey's house any longer.

"Japan, can I talk to you?" Greece asked the shy Asian country in the hallway.

"Hai?" Japan asked. "What is it you want to tell me, Greece-san?"

"I saw something strange at Turkey's house," Greece said shyly.

"What did you see that was so stlange?" Japan wondered.

"I saw Turkey wearing a woman's belly dancing costume," Greece began. "He likes to belly dance in the afternoons when no one's watching."

"That is…vely landom…" Japan said.

"I know. I didn't know Turkey was into that sort of thing," Greece said.

Meanwhile, Hungary had been overhearing the entire conversation. She made plans to go to Turkey's house that weekend and see if she could catch him belly dancing. She quietly stirred outside his bedroom with the door creaked open slightly, just enough so that she could get in there with a video camera. She watched him bounce and twirl, the purple fabric he wore floating around him in time with the music.

_This is payback for all the times you attacked me when we were kids! _Hungary thought to herself deviously.


	4. Episode 4: Mary Poppins

**SuperSailorCharon: I'm doing one more quickie chapter before I go to bed. I'd like to dedicate this chapter to white pedal for reviewing Episode 1.**

"I still don't understand why you need to babysit me," Sealand pouted as he crawled under the covers. "I am not a baby! I am a country!"

"After you stole from my bloody cabinet I don't trust you on your own!" England snapped. "Now go to bed!"

"I don't have a bedtime! Countries don't have bedtimes!" Sealand protested. "If you really had to babysit me, couldn't you have just gotten Mary Poppins?"

"I told you! That's a fictional character from a storybook!" England reminded him. "Now go to bed! Good night!"

Turning off the lights, England trudged down the hallway, tired and exasperated from dealing with the annoying micro-nation. He looked up when he was approached by a tall, slender woman with dark hair and a black umbrella.

"Thanks for covering for me, dear!" The woman said. "I was afraid you'd make me babysit that ruddy brat! I love children, but there's only so much I can do!"

"What are old friends for, Mary?" England said politely. "Come on, Flying Mint Bunny. It's time for bed."

"Okay Britain!" The green bunny chirped, following England down the hall.


	5. Episode 5: Waffles and Pancakes

**SuperSailorCharon: This is a stupid little drabble I came up with this morning while eating breakfast. I could totally see it happening though! I do not own Hetalia. If I did, America, China, and France would be MINE!**

The world meeting would be held at Canada's place this time. Before the meeting, the countries were invited to a big brunch where the special on the menu was pancakes and maple syrup.

"Pancakes are okay," Belgium sighed, picking at her plate of buttermilk pancakes. She and her brother were both sitting together at a table. "But I think waffles are better, don't you agree, Big Brother?" Netherlands just nodded and excused himself from the table to go out for a smoke break.

Canada happened to overhear Belgium and noticed her picking at her pancakes.

"Excuse me, but I think pancakes are the best!" Canada said proudly. He held his pet polar bear Mr. Kumajirou in his arms and the bear just watched the commotion that was about to unfold. "Nothing else goes better with maple syrup than pancakes! My grandma taught me the true spirit of the maple leaf and that includes eating maple syrup with only the best homemade pancakes!"

"Waffles taste much better!" Belgium repeated, growing slightly agitated. "Especially if I made them! Besides, waffles have such a fun texture! Pancakes are so flat and dull!"

"Pancakes are better than waffles!" Canada insisted. The normally shy nation didn't get visibly angry very often, but now he was determined to defend one of his favorite dishes. "They are _not_ flat and dull! The texture is supposed to be simple so it doesn't distract from the flavor!"

"Waffles are better than pancakes!" Belgium argued angrily. She didn't get angry often either, but now she was starting to get a little scary.

A few minutes later, America happened to walk by and notice his brother and a cute European country arguing.

"Dudes! Waffles and pancakes are _both_ awesome!" America interjected in an attempt to keep the peace. "Especially if they have chocolate in them!"

Both countries stopped bickering and looked at America.

"Wait, you can have chocolate in waffles?" Belgium asked.

"Totally! We do it all the time at my place!" America told her excitedly.

"I bet they're not as good as Belgium waffles," Belgium said firmly. "Especially with Belgium chocolate! Now that would be delicious!" Belgium declared, growing visibly excited. "Belgian chocolate is the best chocolate in the world, you know!"

Switzerland happened to walk by and overhear what Belgium just said.

"Swiss chocolate is the best chocolate in the world," Switzerland insisted flatly. "There is no comparison."

"Belgian chocolate is so much better!" Belgium argued. Canada and America both sighed as they watched the two European nations bicker about chocolate.

"Here we go again," Canada murmured.

"Who are you?" Mr. Kumajirou asked.


	6. Episode 6: San Francisco Lemon

**SuperSailorCharon: So for those who enjoyed my Yu-Gi-Oh fanfic "Holy Ship!" this one's for you guys! I do not own Hetalia! There is no real lemon in this story, but it's implied. This episode does not reflect my views on the USUK pairing.**

America was at his vacation home in San Francisco. Every time he was here, he enjoyed himself. The views along the Golden Gate Bridge were spectacular, the trolley rides were always fun, and visiting China's vacation home always guaranteed he'd get a delicious lunch to enjoy.

He was about to go to bed that night when he decided to Google himself. He promised himself he wouldn't stay up too late, but once in a while the urge to Google himself struck. Normally he didn't find anything other than how his economy was going to hell or how his boss was a moron or something along those lines.

"This is boring," America murmured to himself as he sat on his bed with his laptop open on his lap. "I wonder what would happen if I put in my human name."

Carefully typing in "Alfred F. Jones" into the search box, America found plenty of interesting results. He clicked on the top link. It led him to a fan fiction site.

"Dude! Someone totally wrote a story about me!" America beamed. His eyes skimmed the story, hoping it would be about a heroic deed he carried out, or at the very least, him making out with a hot chick. The title was called "An American Lemon".

"Huh…so far it's about Britain and me," America noticed, scrolling down to read the tale about him and the British nation after a world meeting one day. In the story, Britain apologizes to America for everything that happened during the American Revolution and offers to take America out for drinks.

"Yeah, that's totally something Britain would do!" America grinned. He continued to read. Britain gets ridiculously drunk and begins speaking gibberish. America found himself chuckling when he read the part where he picked a drunken Britain off the floor and carried him home. Of course Britain couldn't hold his liquor!

"There's nothing in here about fruit though," America noticed. "That stupid title doesn't make any sense!"

What happened next in the story wasn't so funny at all.

"Wait, why am I laying Iggy on the bed like that?" America asked, his eyes skimming ahead to the…erm…juicy bits of the story. "Why am I taking off his pants?" What happened next in the story made America wish he never clicked on this link. He could've sworn he puked in his mouth a little when he read the part where he took off his own pants and began making sweet love to his older brother.

"Dude! That is _so_ nasty! Whatever mofo wrote this had their head in the gutter! I do _not_ like Iggy like that! Ugh…I bet it was that perv France that wrote this. He's totally gonna get it!" America ranted, flailing angrily around on the bed and nearly knocking his laptop off of him. He vowed the next morning that he would call up France and tear him a new one.

Meanwhile, at France's house, France was looking over a computer screen with a frown on his face.

"So far my hilarious story about _Amerique _and _Angleterre _only has only one hit," France sighed. "Zhis is zhe worst April Fool's Day prank ever!"


	7. Episode 7: Bra Shopping

**SuperSailorCharon: I've seriously wondered why this hasn't been a scenario yet. Can't anyone else imagine the girl countries going bra shopping? Also, I'm not 100% sure how old Liechtenstein is (14 or 15 maybe?) so I just went with 14. **

It was all Hungary's idea.

After the world meeting at America's house, the female countries thought it would be fun to go to an American shopping mall.

"Oh! Look!" Hungary cried, pointing at Victoria's Secret. "I've seen their fashion shows on TV! Let's go in!"

The other female countries happily followed Hungary into the lingerie store. Everyone of course, except for Liechtenstein.

Her human body was barely fourteen years old and yet she still didn't have breasts compared to the other female countries. Even the less-endowed females like Taiwan and Vietnam had bigger breasts than she did. She sighed and watched the other female countries flit around the lingerie store, sifting through bras of different colors and styles. Liechtenstein barely fit into an A-cup and some days she didn't even wear a bra. She doubted this store would have anything here in her size.

Hungary was having a field day sorting through the different bras on the racks. She picked up a lacy purple number and held it up to her chest. Liechtenstein sighed. She had seen pictures of young Hungary at Austria's house. Hungary seemed to blossom into a woman at a young age. Why couldn't Liechtenstein have begun that change herself?

Belarus had chosen a very provocative red and black bra and had the most twisted grin on her face. She must've been imagining what it would be like to wear that seductive thing in front of Russia. Belgium and Taiwan were in the clearance section looking for the best deals while Vietnam wanted a bra in conservative colors.

Seychelles and Ukraine were standing in line to be fitted for a bra. The salesgirl fit the tape around Seychelles's bust.

"34 B," the salesgirl said. She took a few bras in that size off the rack and handed them to Seychelles to try on in the fitting room.

Seychelles wasn't very busty. Still, Liechtenstein couldn't help but sigh. _Anything_ had to have been better than being completely flat-chested.

Liechtenstein looked enviously at Ukraine's gigantic bosoms. Ukraine must feel very womanly with breasts like that. The salesgirl struggled to fit the tape all the way around Ukraine's breasts.

"42 DD," the salesgirl said with a frown. She plucked a few very plain-looking beige bras off the rack and handed them to a disappointed-looking Ukraine.

"Did you want to be fitted, honey?" the salesgirl asked. Liechtenstein turned bright red.

"I don't know…" Liechtenstein murmured. Why couldn't she have massive tracts of land like Ukraine?

"It only takes a minute," the salesgirl assured her. "If I can get your size, I can help you find bras that you might like and that'll flatter your figure."

"My breasts aren't very big," Liechtenstein admitted with shame on her face.

"You might just be wearing the wrong bra," the salesgirl told her. Liechtenstein reluctantly stood to face the salesgirl who wrapped the tape around her chest.

"32 AA," the salesgirl said. Of course. Liechtenstein had hardly any breasts at all.

"We have some really nice new push-ups in stock that you might like to try on," the salesgirl said excitedly. She took a few push-ups off the rack in different colors. One was black, one was blue and lacy, and another was pink with lots of glitter. She handed them to Liechtenstein and set her up in a fitting room.

Liechtenstein tried on the bras. Each one made her look a little more womanly, pushing up what little she had. It was nice to not totally look like a two-by-four. She still hated being flat-chested, but it was nice that she could at least find some bras.

Liechtenstein pulled her pink dress back on and decided she was going to buy all three bras when she heard crying coming from the next stall. Carefully, she stepped out of the fitting room and knocked on the door.

"Yekaterina?" Liechtenstein asked. "It's Lilly. Are you okay?"

Ukraine opened the door slightly and emerged from the fitting room. In her hand were the beige-colored bras.

"I hate having big boobies sometimes. They make my back hurt and I can't find cute bras!"

"You don't like your breasts either?" Liechtenstein asked. "I always thought you had very nice breasts."

"No! Bra shopping is so annoying!" Ukraine wept bitterly. "All that fits me in this place are these boring bras."

Suddenly Liechtenstein didn't feel so terrible.

"I don't like my boobs," Liechtenstein said. "They're not very big at all and when I go out with my big brother, people think I'm a little boy because I have short hair and no boobs. That's why I started wearing a ribbon in my hair. I bet people don't confuse you for a little boy."

"No," Ukraine sniffled, her tears slowing. "I guess not."

"I bet you get lots of attention from boys, too," Liechtenstein said. "Boys don't look at me because I don't have breasts."

Liechtenstein saw the corner of Ukraine's mouth turn up in a weak smile. They both went to join the other girl nations in the checkout line.

"Where did Natalya go?" Ukraine asked as the cashier rang up Hungary's purchases.

"I think she went next door to Hot Topic," Hungary said.

Just then, France, Prussia, and Spain entered the Victoria's Secret.

"Did you boys follow us here?" Seychelles asked in disgust.

"You douchenozzles! That's disgusting!" Hungary spat.

"Spain! What are you doing here? This is embarrassing!" Belgium fumed.

"Who said we followed you here, seniorita?" Spain asked.

"We did not follow anyone here! We are looking for something to wear to the drag show tonight!" France insisted.

"You expect us to believe you three are in a drag show?" Taiwan asked in disbelief.

"Of course!" Prussia laughed. "We are entering a drag show tonight so we can win ze awesome prize money!"

The female countries remained incredulous. Sure enough, the newspaper printed a story the next morning about the three winners of the local nightclub's drag show. The names of the "ladies" who won the competition were Francoise, Carmen, and Maria. The trio won by lip-syncing to "We are Family" by Sister Sledge.


	8. Episode 8: Belgium's Statue

**SuperSailorCharon: My sister helped me come up with this idea last night and I thought it was hilarious! Supposedly there are different stories behind the Manneken Pis, but what if only Belgium knew the REAL story? Anywho, read and review! That's all I have to say. **

"Come on Bel! Why can't you give me the statue? I think it's hilarious!" America begged.

"It's very special to me!" Belgium insisted. "I'm not giving it away to just anyone!"

The statue America was referring to was Manneken Pis, a famous statue at Belgium's house depicting a naked little boy peeing into a fountain. America had been after that statue for a while, but for Belgium, it had a special sentimental value.

_It all started when Belgium went to pay a visit to Spain one day. _

"_Spain? Are you home?" Belgium called out. She flitted through the courtyard, wondering where the green-eyed nation was. So far he was nowhere to be seen, but it was such a beautiful day and he had such a beautiful yard. _

"_I wonder what Spain's secret is for keeping his garden so beautiful," Belgium thought out loud. She gasped at what she saw next. _

"_That'll teach that bastard Spain to leave me here by myself!" Swore Chibi Romano. He was butt-naked and taking a leak in Spain's flower bed. Belgium couldn't help but giggle. Chibi Romano heard her and turned around, looking very red in the face._

"_Romano, where is Spain?" Belgium asked. "I came to see him. He had been saying he wanted some waffles for a while!" _

"_That jerk left me here to go visit France!" Chibi Romano pouted, still burning bright red. _

"_I'll tell you what," Belgium said with a smile, "go put some clothes on and water the flowers properly. Then I'll make you some waffles."_

"_You won't tell Spain what happened?" Chibi Romano asked with embarrassment in his eyes. _

"_Nope!" Belgium promised. "It'll be our little secret."_

_Chibi Romano obeyed and went back into the house to put on some clothes. The moment he was out of sight, Belgium burst out laughing. _

"And that is why I can't give you my statue," Belgium said to America frankly.

"Babe, that was TMI," America said in disgust. He left her house and never bothered her for the statue again.


	9. Episode 9: Russia's Olympics

**SuperSailorCharon: After getting drunk and watching the closing ceremony in Sochi last night, I thought I'd start writing this chapter. I'm a little stressed out with school/my personal life, so hopefully writing this will put me in a better mood. Please review! Also, I tried to be sensitive with depicting Ukraine's reaction to the situation in Ukraine, so if I've missed something or depicted something inaccurately, I mean no offense. **

The countries watched the closing ceremony of the Winter Olympics in Sochi, Russia. All of them sat in a VIP box in the stadium watching the last festivities of the Olympics unfold. Each of them watched the ceremony with different thoughts running through their heads.

There was laughter among the countries as they watched the performers reference the fifth ring that didn't open during the opening ceremony. They watched the sequence with the flying clowns and the upside down houses. The countries watched in splendor and awe at the depictions of Russian culture. Romano was just glad that he and his brother weren't hosting the Olympics this time, because usually the opening and closing ceremonies were interrupted by their grandfather singing about Heaven and Hell in Europe.

Then the nations' athletes filtered into the stadium and the arguments began…

Denmark was bitching about how he didn't win any medals at all while Norway kept insisting that Denmark was being a bad sport. France, Britain, and the Italy brothers were complaining that Russia must've cheated to get so many medals. Germany, disappointed that he didn't get as many gold medals as he did at the Vancouver Olympics, was so drunk he was looking for something to bust over someone's head. Latvia sat shaking in the corner with a nervous smile on his babyish face. He couldn't believe that his athletes almost beat Russia in bobsledding! Belarus bragged over how she had more medals than any of the other female countries. Liechtenstein, like so many of the other female countries, walked away empty-handed. But she was still in good spirits.

"Switzy, thank you for letting my country take part in the Olympics," Liechtenstein said sweetly. But her big brother was busy arguing with Austria and didn't hear her thanks.

"I think it's more important to have more gold medals," Switzerland insisted.

"That doesn't matter," Austria said pretentiously. "My overall medal count is much, much higher than yours!"

Eventually, Austria and Switzerland were locked in an all-out brawl.

For once, America, the normally loud and boastful nation, watched the Olympics quietly. He was exhausted and in a bad mood because the Nordic countries were arguing the whole night before and so he got no sleep at all. At least it was better than the other night when someone set a wolf loose in the hallways. America watched the athletes representing his country flood into the stadium. Normally he loved the Olympics, but this time it left him a little disappointed. He had more bronze medals than any other country. They don't put bronze medalists on cereal boxes! Some of his promising athletes, like Shaun White, just didn't deliver this time.

He was also glad to be going home. Russia's house was scary! Most of America's citizens were too scared to leave their hotel rooms to experience Russia's country and all it had to offer. Then again, the hotel wasn't much better. There were live wires sticking out of the shower and several times he had to break his bathroom door down. The food also sucked. Not a hamburger stand in sight! Earlier that week over breakfast, America complained to Russia that there was a dead bee in his honey.

"In Russia, our honey is so fresh the bees are still in it!" The Russian joked, adding to America's irritation.

Not to mention America was still bitter over losing the hockey match to Canada. The two of them made a bet that the loser of the hockey match would have to keep Justin Beiber. Needless to say, America was still sore about that, especially since his brother was still gloating.

"I can't believe it!" Canada cried. "I don't have to take back that sorry no-good punk!"

Canada loved the Olympics. It was one of the few times where people actually remembered he existed.

"Isn't this great, Mr. Kumajello?" Canada gushed to his pet polar bear while butchering the bear's name. "People are finally gonna start noticing me because I got more gold medals than America!"

"Who are you?" Mr. Kumajirou asked.

The Russian children's choir began to sing and Ukraine looked out into the stadium at her athletes from her homeland. She was glad she got a gold and a bronze medal, but there were tears in her eyes. With Ukraine being labeled the crybaby of Eastern Europe, this was nothing new. But this time, she had good reason to cry.

Earlier that week, the protests at Ukraine's place had seriously escalated. Her boss had been impeached by the parliament. Some people still supported Ukraine's president, but others wanted a new government. In Kyiv and other cities, police and protestors were killed or brutally injured. Protests like this had been going on for a while, but now they were incredibly severe. Some of Ukraine's athletes pulled out of their events in response to the crisis at Ukraine's place. Those that stayed requested a moment of silence after Ukraine's athletes won a gold medal.

Ukraine couldn't help but cry for the horrors that were going on at her house, but she also shed a tear for the kindness some of the other countries showed her.

Then came the passing of the Olympic flag to the mayor of Pyeongchang and the part of the VIP box that the Asian countries were sitting in got very noisy.

"Hooray for our land, da-ze!" Korea cried. "In 2018, all your breasts are gonna be mine!"

"Aiyaa! Stop saying that!" China scolded. "Sit down and be respectful!"

Japan was just watching the chaos unfold with a scowl on his face, disappointed he didn't win very many gold medals.

"The Olympics originated at my place, you know!" Korea bragged.

"Don't let Greece hear you say that, aru!" China hissed, growing seriously impatient with the younger Asian country.

Nearby, Greece happened to be listening and the normally easy-going Greek was now fuming with rage. However, he couldn't help but wonder what his mother would say if she were alive to witness the modern Olympics.

"Dude, that giant bear mascot thingy is really creepy," America pointed out. It was the first time he spoke the whole time as the bear mascot blew out the Olympic torch.

Meanwhile, Russia just sat and watched everything unfold around him with a smile on his childlike face. He couldn't remember a recent time where he was so happy. Seven years ago when he won the bid for the Olympics, everyone around him asked him what on earth he was thinking. The last time he hosted The Games was when the Soviet Union still existed and everyone still lived at his house. Now it was like everyone got to become one with him, even if only for a fortnight. He could share all of the wonders of his underrated and overlooked culture with the whole world.

The tall, giant country wasn't one to cry. But as the creepy bear mascot shed a tear, so too did Russia. It had been so long since he had been this happy.

And after today, he would be all alone again.


	10. Episode 10: Denmark's Amusement Parks

**SuperSailorCharon: Wow! Thanks soooo much to Milk of Awesomeness, Brazilian Empire, Deligate Flower, and Ed32698 for favoriting One-Shotalia! Sorry for disappearing for a few days, but you know how school and stuff goes! I went to see some ice castles on Wednesday, too, so I ended up being gone. They weren't all that exciting. Anywho, I do not own Hetalia. **

"Hey guys! Glad you could make it!" Denmark greeted as he stood at the entrance to BonBon-Land. The other four Nordic countries looked very uncertain about what sort of crazy place Denmark had invited them to for the weekend.

"This is in an…interesting place, Denmark," Iceland murmured quietly. "But why is there a statue of a farting dog at the front entrance?"

"Isn't that hilarious?" Denmark laughed. "Come on, wait till you see the rest of the park!"

The gang spent the day at the amusement park where the mascots were farting dogs, puking rats, headless chickens, and this weird human-hybrid cow thingy with woman's breasts. They went on a water ride where a voiceover kept telling everyone to look out for "wet beaver".

"I don't see any wet beavers here, do you, Mr. Sweden?" Finland asked.

"I don't know if they mean that kind of beaver," Norway said awkwardly.

Denmark found the whole thing absolutely hilarious, but the other Nordic countries were wondering if Denmark had lost his mind.

But of course the park's main attraction was something called the Hundepruten, otherwise known as the farting dog rollercoaster. Denmark laughed and hooted as the rollercoaster sped around in a giant dog kennel with the soundtrack of farts in the background. In the middle was a statue of a dog taking a dump.

"That was awesome!" Denmark laughed as the five Nordics exited the ride. Finland, Sweden, Norway, and Iceland all looked annoyed and slightly disgusted. "Who's up for coffee and cake?"

"No th'nk you," Sweden said slowly with obvious disgust on his face.

"How can you still have an appetite in a place like this?" Norway wondered.

"Hey! Coffee and cake is an important time of day at my place!" Denmark reminded him. He hurried ahead to a cake and coffee stand.

It was then that the other four Nordics decided never to let Denmark pick where they would all meet up.

**SuperSailorCharon: I apologize if it seems like I took the low-road to comedy with this one-shot, but apparently such a place in Denmark exists. **


	11. Episode 11: Americans, Poles, Whiskey

**SuperSailorCharon: I came up with this idea after my Polish friend showed me a meme about how Americans drink vodka versus how Polish people drink whiskey. **

After one world meeting, the countries got together for a wild and crazy party. America's drink of choice the entire night was a bottle of Jack Daniels that he was hoarding all to himself. He had finished up a mouthful and had begun laughing hysterically at Finland's corny jokes.

"Knock-knock!" Finland began.

"Who's there, dude?" America howled with laughter.

"Boo!"

"Boo who?"

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to make you cry!"

"Bahahahahaha!"

"Nein! It vasn't that funny at all!" Germany snapped, getting annoyed with the younger North-American country.

"Dude! Lighten up!" America laughed before taking another shot. "Ah! What the hell! You're awesome! You're all awesome!"

"Mein Gott," Germany said, shaking his head in embarrassment.

"Hey, where's Britain? I wanna give him a hug!" America announced, drinking a little more whiskey. He approached England on the other side of the room and tried to hug him. England was already sloshed out of his mind.

"Get away from me, ya bloody Yankee!" England said in drunken anger. "I try to save your bloody ass from Frogface and you pay me back by telling me you don't want me to tell you what to do? Piss off, you wanker!"

"Iggy? Come on! I just wanted to say I'm sorry for that whole Revolutionary War thing!" America said, tears welling up in his big blue eyes. But England just wandered away in a drunken stupor still cursing under his breath. "Come on Iggy! I said I was sorry!" By now America was in tears before taking a few more swigs of whiskey. He took out his phone.

"I need to call Tony," America said, speed-dialing the alien at his house.

"Dude, Tony! I need someone to talk to! Iggy's being a raging asshole and I just wanted to say I'm sorry to him!" America babbled drunkenly on the phone.

"Fucking! Bitch! Fucking!" Tony replied.

"Yeah! Iggy _is _a fucking bitch!" America agreed before taking another swig. "Thanks for talking to me, man! You know how to cheer me up!" By now, America's words were very, very slurred, almost to the point where he didn't sound like he was speaking English anymore.

"Americque! I did not know you knew how to speak ze French language! Ohonhonhonhonhon!" France laughed as he walked by with a glass of fancy wine in hand. "Too bad you do not know how to speak it very well!"

America muttered something else incoherent before taking another swig. He took off a lampshade and placed it on his head. He jumped on the table and began to dance and remove his pants as the other nations just stopped and stared.

"Western nations are so immature when they drink!" China said disapprovingly, rolling his eyes. Some of the European countries began to clap and holler.

"I'm okay. I'm okay," America murmured sickly, removing the lampshade from his head. He took one more swig, which was one more too many. The young country puked into the lampshade (most of the vomit fell through the top and onto the table) and then he fainted.

"We shourd plobabry get America-san some herp," Japan said urgently. He and a few of the other Asian countries (who were not quite as drunk as the western countries) lifted America up off the table and removed him from the room.

Meanwhile, Poland had also been downing a bottle of Jack Daniels during the party. However, it didn't affect him _nearly _as much.

"America can't hold his liquor!" Poland laughed. "That's like, too funny!" Poland took a few swigs of Jack Daniels and was finished with the bottle. "On to the next bottle" He cried.

"You know Poland, you and I handle our alcohol way better than most countries, da?" Russia beamed, his face cheery and red from a few bottles of vodka. He laid a hand on Poland's shoulder and Poland shuddered in disgust. "You and I are lot alike, da?"

"Like, don't ever say that again!" Poland snapped.


	12. Episode 12: Adventures in Babysitting

**SuperSailorCharon: Hopefully this next one-shot doesn't sound too cracky, but I had a friend put in a request for a chapter about Germany babysitting Sealand and then another friend (a Germany fan) thought it was a hilarious idea! I'd like to thank Chobi-chan89 for leaving me a review. This chapter is for you!**

Germany was sitting at home reading a German newspaper one day when there came a knock on his door. He set the paper down and rose up to open the front door where he found a distraught-looking England. There was a little boy standing next to England that looked a lot like him and was dressed in a sailor suit.

"Hello there!" Sealand chirped.

"Take him! Take this bloody brat! I can't deal with him right now!" England snapped. "I'm tired of hearing 'Oh! I'm a country! I'm a country!' Bloody git can piss off!" England took a deep breath and added more calmly, "I'm going to America's house. I'll be back for Sealand in about a week."

"Vhy are you leaving him here at my house?!" Germany asked in shock. "Vait! Come back!"

Germany groaned loudly and stared down at Sealand.

"I'm Germany," Germany said reluctantly. "Velcome to my home."

"I think I drove England crazy again," Sealand said. "Well, that happens, you know!"

"I don't understand," Germany grunted, inviting the little country into his house. Italy was already staying with him for a little while, so a relaxing week at home was already too much to ask. "Vhy did Britain leave you here, again?"

"Well, Britain doesn't trust me on my own ever since I stole from his liquor stash. He would've left me with Papa Sweden and Finland, but they went on their honeymoon. And I've always wanted to visit your house and a lot of other places in the world, too, so Britain left me here!"

"All right," Germany sighed. He didn't know anything about childrearing. In fact, it had been hundreds and hundreds of years since he himself had been a child. He thought for a moment about parents he had seen throughout his country and how they raised their children. "Just don't make a mess and don't stay awake too late."

"It's not like I don't babysit Italy sometimes," Germany murmured to himself. He thought, _This little kind* had better not make a mess in my house._

"Oh, and stay out of the basement," Germany warned. "I don't want you going down there."

"Don't worry! I won't! I know that's where you keep all your torture devices!" Sealand said eagerly.

"Ja…torture devices…" Germany said nervously.

Luckily, babysitting Sealand wasn't _too _terrible, although Sealand and Italy proved to be a very annoying pair when together.

"Patty cake, patty cake! Baker's man! Bake me a cake as fast as you can! Roll it and pat it and mark it with a…" Italy and Sealand sang together before they were cut off by an irritated Germany.

"Nein! Find something quieter to do!" Germany snapped at them. Germany went back to reading a book with a cold, frothy mug of beer while Sealand went to watch TV and Italy played with Pooky.

The rest of the week was relatively quiet. Sealand spent most of his time watching television and eating chocolate. He would often help out around the house whenever Italy wanted to make pasta. To Germany's pleasure, sometimes Sealand occasionally offered to help clean.

"Thank you for helping me dust the furniture," Germany said flatly. "Vould you like a beer? I realize you're a little young, but here it is not uncommon to begin drinking beer when you're about fourteen."

"I don't like beer!" Sealand cried. "Could I have a melon soda?"

"I told you!" Germany snapped. "You cannot get melon soda here!"

"Oh, well could we at least have some more of that chocolate cake you made the other night? German chocolate is really, really good!" Sealand gushed.

"You shouldn't be eating so many sweets!" Germany replied. "It's bad for your health! No more television, either!"

"But why?" Sealand asked in dismay. "I love television! And the internet, too!"

"Nein! You are going to train with me tomorrow! It is important to exercise, especially vhile you are young!" Germany said sharply.

The next morning, Germany woke up Italy and Sealand at around five to train.

"Count off!" Germany cried.

"Uno!"

"Two!"

"And I'm trine," Germany said flatly. "Today we are going to run laps!"

"I hate jogging! Germany! Can we please do something else? Anything else!" Italy pouted.

"Nein! If you do not finish your laps, we will not be going to lunch until you do!" Germany barked.

"I'll race ya!" Sealand cried as he sped past slow-jogging Italy.

The day was spent running laps, doing push-ups and crunches, and various other strenuous activities. Italy was worn-out, but at the same time somewhat used to this physical activity. Meanwhile, Sealand, who had shown so much zeal at the start of the training, was now exhausted and fast asleep in the spare bedroom in Germany's house.

"He didn't even want to eat dinner," Germany observed as he closed the door to the spare bedroom while the micro-nation slept soundly. "And we were having wurst tonight, too."

Germany was about to start cooking the wurst when there came a knock on the door. He opened it to find England looking much-less flustered than he did a week ago when he dropped Sealand off.

"Sealand is upstairs sleeping," Germany told England. "Did you enjoy your visit with America?"

"No, but I suppose it had to be done," England sighed. "Wait, did you say Sealand was _sleeping?_"

"Ja," Germany said. "I spent today training him and wore him out. Let me wake him up so you can take him home."

A grin rose up on England's face.

"Remind me to leave him at your house more often," England quipped.

Germany just sighed and shook his head.

*** "Kind" in this context is German for "child". **


	13. Episode 13: Three Guys, One Pole

**SuperSailorCharon: This title is a play on the porno "Two Girls, One Cup". I don't own that porno, and I'm very glad! I don't own Hetalia either. Enjoy! And please review! It'll motivate me to continue these one-shots. **

"Well, your new pole is installed! Hope you have fun with it!" America said after he finished installing a brand new stripper pole in the living room of Prussia's house.

"Thanks for putting it in!" Prussia said thankfully, eyeing his new purchase eagerly.

"No problem, dude! Pole dancing is an awesome way to lose weight at my house, so I hope you see results soon! Well, see ya later!" America called as he walked out the front door.

Of course, little did America know that Prussia didn't buy the stripper pole as a weight-loss aid. Prussia had wanted to learn pole dancing for a while now. He slid around the pole and danced provocatively. Having so much fun, he decided to call Spain and France and show off his brand new stripper pole.

Spain and France arrived quickly at Prussia's house to admire the new fixture in the living room.

"Pretty awesome, isn't it guys?" Prussia boasted.

"It's très magnifique!" France gushed.

"Si, muy bien!" Spain agreed.

"Pretty soon I'll be ze most awesome pole dancer in Europe!" Prussia boasted.

"Ohonhonhonhon! Everyone knows zhat title belongs to ze world-renowned France!" France bragged.

"Let me show you my awesome moves!" Prussia volunteered before France interrupted him.

"I bet zhey are not more awesome than mine! Let me show you," France insisted before Spain cut him off.

"I wanna try pole dancing, amigos!" Spain said eagerly, approaching the pole before France blocked him.

"Back off, Spain! I will be the next one to try out ze pole!" France said impatiently, pushing him out of the way. Spain tried to push back and the two countries began shoving each other to get to the stripper pole first.

"Guys! It's my house and it's my pole!" Prussia shouted over the arguing countries. He was getting very annoyed with his friends and regretted inviting them over. That is, until he got an idea.

"I have an awesome idea!" Prussia cried over the noise. "I think I know how we can all use ze stripper pole at once!"

Germany stopped by some time later to invite Prussia out for a beer.

"Bruder? Are you home?" Germany asked. He knocked, but there was no answer. "Gilbert?"

Germany could hear music coming from inside Prussia's house, so of course his ne'er-do-well brother had to be home. He invited himself inside and his jaw hit the floor when he stepped into the living room.

"Vhat the hell?! Vas is das?!" Germany gasped in shock.

Prussia, France, and Spain were all on the stripper pole spinning around and around simultaneously to the beat of German techno music.

Germany wasn't sure which was more shocking: his brother's new hobby or the fact that all three guys could fit on the stripper pole at once.


	14. Episode 14: The Little Sparrow

**SuperSailorCharon: I've been looking forward to doing this chapter for a while! I really like France and I also really love Edith Piaf, so I thought of doing a one-shot around that idea. I did my best to research Edith Piaf, so if I got anything wrong, I am SO sorry in advanced! I do not own "Padam-Padam" or "La Vie En Rose". Enjoy! Also, I would like to thank Deligate Flower for commenting and larrklopp for following!**

They say that Jeanne d'Arc was the one woman that France truly loved with all of his heart. He was devastated when she was burned at the stake. But what most of the other countries didn't know about Francis Bonnefoy was that not too terribly long ago, he fell deeply in love with a beautiful woman nicknamed "The Little Sparrow".

No one really knew much about her other than her name. But the country of love and beauty would watch her perform on stage clad in a little black dress, the spotlight bouncing off of her chestnut curls. Francis knew that this little songstress had a reputation for being very popular with men. Even though he had his choice of any woman in Paris, Francis would sit and listen to Edith sing every time she performed and knew that someday he would enjoy being in the company of this beautiful little sparrow.

One day, he got his chance in the middle of World War II.

His boss forbade him to watch her perform. Some people accused her of treason because she would perform in places of the country that were occupied by the Germans. But France, disguised as a German soldier, filtrated the German-occupied parts of his country one night just to hear her sing. He pretended he was trying to spy on Germany. But instead, France longed to hear the angelic voice of Edith Piaf.

"Merci! Bonne nuit!" The diva said, ending her show. The crowds parted, and France crept backstage.

"Mademoiselle zat was beautiful," Francis complimented. The diva stopped and looked at him. A smile rose on her face.

"You're not a German, are you?" She said wryly.

"What? How did you know?" France asked.

"You may be dressed like a German soldier, but no one from Germany would have hair like zhat," Edith pointed out. "And your accent is too much like mine."

"Oui, it is true I am a Frenchman. My name is Francis Bonnefoy. I am a huge fan of yours, Ms. Piaf."

"Call me Edith," the woman said warmly. She stood very petite in the taller shadow of the Frenchman.

"Edith," France said, letting the name roll of his tongue, "would you grant me the honor of your presence tonight at dinner?"

"That sounds très bien."

From then on, Edith and Francis spent a good deal of time together, wrapped up in the full flush of love and lust.

He didn't know why. What made her so much more special than other women in his country? Was it because she was a famous diva? No, it wasn't that. Was she prettier than any of the other women he had been with? France had been with so many women that the comparison didn't matter. Was it because she poured her heart and soul into every single one of her songs?

No, it was none of those things. France adored her because

In the spring, he took her walking as the flowers bloomed and they would sip coffee at a lovely café in plain sight of the Eiffel Tower. On his birthday, they celebrated with a nice picnic in a beautiful park.

And then one day, America happened to be visiting.

"Whoa, Francis! Nice to see ya! Who's this cute girl you're with?" He asked.

France looked over at Edith, who seemed to be lost in America's eyes. France knew that look better than anyone else: the look of infatuation. Jealousy washed over him, but he hid it, locking it away deep down inside. Why jealousy? He had no reason to be jealous. Love wasn't meant to be hoarded to oneself. Love was meant to be shared and adored by everyone.

So why couldn't he let her look?

It wasn't the first time he caught her flirting with other guys in front of him. She loved male attention and loved catching the eyes of other charming men. But why on earth did it have to be with _America_ of all people?

"Zhis is Edith Piaf," France said coldly, wishing America would just go away already. "She is a very famous singing sensation here in my country. Edith, zhis is an acquaintance of mine from ze United States."

"Monsieur, would you be interested in joining Francis and me for an afternoon coffee?" Edith offered.

"Wow! I love coffee! Thanks!" America accepted eagerly.

The war ended. Eventually it turned out Edith Piaf was actually using her fame to help people escape Nazi persecution and she even helped some French prisoners of war escaped when she performed for some high-ranking Germans. France had never been more proud of one of his citizens.

Of course France learned that he couldn't have Edith all to himself. Edith was almost as notorious as Francis of giving her heart freely rather than reserving it for one.

"Mademoiselle, what do you mean when you say you will not see me anymore?" France asked Edith after a night of passion at France's house.

"I don't know," Edith sighed. "Francis, it is all so complicated. I thought I wanted to be with you, but I fell in love with someone else."

"Do you mean when you told me you said you loved me, back when we went on a picnic on Bastille Day, you weren't telling me ze truth?" Francis asked, more than a little hurt.

"Francis, it is not like that," Edith assured him.

France sighed for a moment and embraced Edith one more time as they sat together on the bed watching the sunrise over Paris.

"You cannot force love on someone," Francis told her. "I understand if you wish to leave me, but if you ever want to return, I will be right here waiting."

France wanted everything in his heart to believe what he just told Edith. He watched her leave his house and in an attempt to cheer himself up, he went to the Moulin Rouge the next night in search of a cabaret dancer or two to take home and had a wild night of passion with two women whose names he didn't even know. But he just didn't feel like his old-self anymore.

No matter how many women (and sometimes men depending on the day) he slept with, France couldn't help but think about Edith often. Several years went by and every time he heard one of Edith's songs, he couldn't help but feel a quiet longing in his heart. Why did he feel so much for this woman? There were plenty like her, weren't there? And didn't he learn his lesson about being too deeply involved in the lives of his citizens back when Jeanne d'Arc was alive?

"They say she wrote 'La Vie En Rose' after encountering an American man," someone whispered. Crowds were gathered outside of a venue where Edith Piaf, The Little Sparrow, would be performing.

"Whoever he was, he was certainly lucky," his companion muttered back in agreement. A pang of jealousy tore away at Francis, but he hid behind his normal smile.

Sometimes he read her name in the paper. She was having a love affair with a legendary boxer, who also happened to be married. Apparently it didn't take her very long to forget about Francis at all.

Just when Francis was beginning to forget about The Little Sparrow, a rainy spring night in 1951 changed everything.

"Sacrebleu!" France swore to himself as the rain continued to course down. "Of all the nights it had to rain, it had to rain tonight!"

A car sped by through a puddle, splashing France and soaking him to the bone, his cape covered in mud.

"Watch where you are going, _putain_!" France cursed. The car slowed down a little further up the road. The driver rolled down the window. France's jaw hit the floor when he saw the driver poke her head out.

"Francis?!" She asked in surprise. "You look soaked. Do you need a ride back home?"

"Oui, merci," Francis said reluctantly as he climbed into the passenger's seat.

"You look well," Edith said. "It has been six years since I last saw you and you haven't aged a day. Not like me."

"Zhat's not true, mademoiselle," Francis assured her. "You look as lovely as you did the day I saw you."

Edith parked the car outside of France's house. He looked longingly into her eyes for a moment.

"Would you care to come in? You shouldn't be driving on a night like zhis," Francis told her.

Edith agreed. The two of them indulged in a night of passion for the first night in a very long time. Somehow, it just wasn't the same to Francis as it was all those years earlier.

"I wanted to say I am sorry," Edith told Francis as they lay together in the dark.

"Por quoi?" Francis asked.

"I am sorry for leading you on as I did so many years ago. I still care about you very much. I should not have deceived you and I should not have spent so much time looking at other men when I had you right in front of me," Edith said ruefully.

"Do not be sorry," Francis said. "Love is meant to be shared with everyone. You cannot lock it away. You must give it away freely. I should have remembered you were not mine to keep all to myself."

That night, France realized her still loved her. But this time, it was a different kind of love. In some ways, he still loved her romantically. But instead, he realized he loved her as a human being, enough to make sure she was always happy no matter what, whether it was with him, or with someone else.

A few months later, Edith had been injured in a car accident. She never truly did get better. She recovered enough to perform again, but she just wasn't quite the same. Francis stayed by her side while she was recovering. Even though she married, divorced, and married again, Francis still remained her biggest fan and her biggest supporter.

"Zhis melody you will hear follows me everywhere I go. I hear it when I am sad, and especially when I am glad. It seems to mock me for my past sins. It taunts me, and it is driving me crazy! Padam…" Edith announced one night at one of her shows. She looked out into the audience at Francis, her gaze never once leaving him as she sang about past mistakes in the realm of love during the naivety of youth and false "I love yous" whispered on Bastille Day. It took Francis a moment, but he soon realized that Edith had written "Padam-Padam" for him.

They remained close friends until the day she died of liver cancer twenty years after she and Francis met. She had been lapsing in and out of consciousness for a little while until one day she finally passed away quietly.

"I appreciate what you are doing," Francis told Edith's husband Theo as they drove through the streets of Paris. "All of Edith's fans would be better off knowing zhat she died here in her hometown of Paris."

The morning after Edith died, Theo decided that the fans would take comfort if they found out Edith Piaf died in Paris, when in actuality, she died at her vacation home along the French Riviera.

"I think more people would appreciate what you did for Edith while she was alive than what I am doing for her now that she is gone," Theo told Francis.

Francis took comfort in knowing that while the woman he adored was gone, she was making beautiful music somewhere else, and that beautiful music would always live on in his heart.

The archbishop of Paris refused to give Edith Piaf a proper funeral because of her wild lifestyle. Yet thousands of mourners showed up to pay their respects to The Little Sparrow bringing traffic in Paris to a complete halt.

"Dude, whatever happened to that cute French girl you used to date? You know, the one that always sang?" America asked many years later after a world meeting one day. "A lot of my citizens are listening to her music now for some weird reason."

"She is no longer with us," France said wistfully. "But her melody lives on in all of our hearts."

**SuperSailorCharon: Supposedly, Edith Piaf's second husband drove her body all the way back to Paris the day after she died so her fans would think she died in her hometown. Also "putain" in French is "bitch".**


	15. Episode 15: Football

**SuperSailorCharon: Sorry if I don't update for a while. School is kicking my ass at the moment and I've got three pretty long one-shots for this story that I'm working on that I'm kind of stuck on. The good news is that I found out this is the last year I have to take any more general studies classes before working on my major! Hooray! **

"Hey Germany!" Italy called gleefully one day after a world meeting. He raced down the hall to meet up with the big, blond country. "Can we play football? I brought a football we can use! It's such a nice day today!"

"I suppose ve could play a game of football," Germany said reluctantly. "It _is_ a sunny day."

"Oh? You both are playing football, si?" Spain asked. He happened to overhear Italy and Germany. "I love football! Romano, you want to play football with us?"

"I'm not playing football with that damn potato bastard," Romano said stubbornly.

"We won't be playing _with_ him! We'll be playing _against _him!" Spain insisted. "Come on!"

Out behind the building in the grass, the teams were divided up as Spain and Romano versus Italy and Germany. England happened to walk by when he noticed the other four countries playing a game of football, kicking the black and white football across the grass. With a swift kick, Italy managed to score a goal. Spain just laughed, but Romano's face burned with rage.

"Say! Are you chaps playing a round of football? Football is the best!" England beamed. "Care if I join you?"

"Sure Great Britain!" Italy invited. "You can play with us!"

"Nein! Ve vill have uneven teams if he plays vith us!" Germany protested.

"Not if I play too!" Prussia called. He had run onto the field and joined Germany and Italy's side. "Brace yourself for my awesome football-playing skills!"

With Prussia on Italy and Germany's team, England joined Spain and Romano.

Soon enough, more and more of the European countries showed up to play the epic game of football. Belgium, Netherlands, France, the Nordics, and even little Sealand joined the football game (much to England's great annoyance). It was a very close game, but Italy and Germany's team were winning by just a few points.

Suddenly, America stormed out onto the field wearing tight pants, a helmet, and a red and gold jersey with shoulder pads underneath.

"Dude! I totally heard there was a football game! I love football! Let's kick some pigskin!" America shouted eagerly.

The game came to a standstill as the other European countries stopped and stared at America, who looked very out-of-place on the field.

"Vhat are you talking about?" Germany asked in annoyance.

"I heard all about the football game, so I totally thought it'd be awesome if I played! Americans are the best at football, you know!" America boasted.

"You bloody idiot! We're not talking about that kind of football!" England snapped.

"We're playing what you call 'soccer' in your country, amigo," Spain explained patiently.

America turned bright red and wandered away as some of the European countries laughed before continuing with their game.

"Stupid soccer game," America mumbled to himself as he strode past the grove of trees. "Football is way better than soccer! Screw that. Football is so much more manly! It's got tackling and fumbling and awesome halftime shows and…" he grumbled before he was cut-off mid-sentence by his brother.

"Um…hi America," Canada greeted. "You look kinda down. Do you want to go with me to the ice rink? We can play a game of ice hockey."

America cheered up immediately.

"Americans are awesome at hockey! I'll totally win! Hey, let's make a bet! The loser has to keep Justin Beiber as a citizen of their country!

"We already made that bet…you lost," Canada reminded him. But America wasn't listening and instead raced his brother to the ice rink.


End file.
